Windows tint with solid white, And the tires turn no longer! The forecast warned of fog, but not snow. Miles and miles of snow... Forward, backwards, up and down. My pitter-patter forming songs— Of colored knits, forgotten friends, and her rosy smile, veiled in white. The enraptured winds, shaking. The wrinkled snow-tide, rumbling. Pulling back the surf, ebbing. Emerging, a smile dressed in ice And nothing else. For miles around. First went my hand, shoulders were next— Buckled knees and curled-up toes. None spared from her loving embrace. Once certain, the lullaby dropped. Unfurling realm, The White Lotus— Rapt the two then twined for two, Crowned Rulers of the Kingdom of Snow. "...So the story goes," say the Pigs of Blue-Gold. The eye taken but yet not seen; a sole imprint? The rusted car spoke no more.